Im Chan-hyung’s voice was filled with confusion.
Taeha felt as if he’d been struck on the back of the head as well.
“Was I too confident? I just assumed I’d make it.”
But he couldn’t help but be confident.
At the audition, Taeha had given his very best performance.
He immersed himself so deeply that his palms grew hot, and even the judges across the table seemed to forget for a moment that this was an audition hall, focusing solely on Taeha’s acting.
Not only did he have the skill, but luck had been on his side as well, making this result all the harder to accept.
“Is this some kind of surprise?”
– Huh?
Taeha rubbed his temple at Im Chan-hyung’s question, as if to ask what on earth he was talking about.
“Looks like I really failed.”
Well, Im Chan-hyung wasn’t the type to joke about audition results.
He was such a straightforward and easygoing friend, sometimes almost to the point of being boring.
“If not me, then who the hell got it?”
– Dunno. I didn’t ask that far.
Taeha recalled the faces he’d seen in the hallway.
That list wasn’t everyone who auditioned, but it could be one of them.
“I’d rather it be Han Woo-ri.”
If it was Han Woo-ri, that would be better than some random actor thrown in from elsewhere.
Not just for Han Woo-ri’s sake.
Even the smallest supporting role should go to the actor who fits the part best, for the overall quality of the production.
Even if he couldn’t participate himself, Taeha sincerely hoped that would become a great work.
“Anyway… nothing I can do if I didn’t make it.”
– Instead, they want to offer you a different role.
“Damn it.”
For a moment, Taeha cursed under his breath.
He tried to act calm, but in truth, he was disappointed.
“If that’s the case, you could have just said so from the start.”
– Well, I’m not sure if this is a good thing or not. I have to meet them to find out what kind of role they want to give you.
“Doesn’t matter. My goal is just to appear in this project, no matter what.”
– That’s good. They want to have a meeting with everyone next week, is that okay?
“Of course.”
– They’ll send the scripts for Episodes 3 and 4, so take a look before the meeting.
“Alright, got it. Thanks for letting me know.”
– Yeah. I’ll send it as soon as the script arrives.
“Sure, thanks.”
Taeha ended the call with a sigh and thought for a moment.
“A different role… I wonder what it is?”
So far, in Episodes 1 and 2, the only decent role Taeha could see himself playing was Apprentice Priest.
Everything else was even smaller than the Apprentice Priest.
That’s probably why even Im Chan-hyung was uncertain if this was good news or not.
“I hope there’s a decent role in Episodes 3 and 4.”
Of course, whatever role he got, it wouldn’t be a loss for Taeha.
“For now, just appearing in a good project is enough.”
Thinking this, Taeha picked up the remote and pressed the resume button.
The drama he’d been watching started playing again.
For the past week, Taeha had holed himself up in his room, spending most of his time watching TV.
After a year away, there was a flood of movies and dramas he hadn’t seen.
There were things the old Kang Taeha had watched, but it was still a much smaller amount compared to what Taeha used to consume.
As both a writer and an actor in the drama industry, Taeha felt it was almost his duty to absorb all kinds of content.
“If you want output, you need input.”
Besides, Taeha had the ability to amplify input into output by an incredible degree through his immersion.
“With just a little effort, I could achieve even more amazing results. Why wouldn’t I?”
Besides, he simply enjoyed watching things as a hobby.
“Unlike before, I’m not just focusing on lines or scenes, but even carefully observing the actors’ performances, so it takes more time…”
Still, the broader perspective didn’t feel bad at all.
Of all the content released over the past year, two works especially caught Taeha’s eye.
One was a drama that, though it failed in terms of viewership due to experimental elements, had earned critical praise.
The other was a romance comedy drama that, with high viewership, also maintained a top ranking on Netflix, gaining immense popularity.
And the latter was .
This was the project Kang Sojeong had chosen as her follow-up after .
“The drama that established Sojeong as a full-fledged lead.”
Some criticized it as cliché-ridden, but the more you watched, the more you appreciated the familiar flavors.
Its twelve-episode structure allowed for fast pacing and kept it from dragging, precisely reflecting the needs of today’s viewers—impressive.
Watching such an engaging work, Taeha felt a familiar desire stir within him.
“I want to write, too.”
Whenever he came across an entertaining project, regardless of genre, Taeha’s first thought was always like a reflex: I want to write something like this.
It was the same feeling he had when reading the script for .
It was a writer’s instinct, honed over years.
Ending his career with just seemed like a waste of all he’d built up until now.
“Maybe… I should try writing again?”
Just as he was thinking this,
His phone vibrated, and a message notification popped up on the screen.
[I’m sending it as a file for now. I’ll bring you a printed copy tomorrow.]
It was a message from Im Chan-hyung.
As promised, the scripts for Episodes 3 and 4 were attached.
Putting aside other thoughts, Taeha opened the script first.
***
Back at the production office.
Im Chan-hyung and Taeha sat in a corner of the meeting room, waiting for Director Lee Hae-ik and Kim Jeong-sik.
Taeha sipped his drink and thought.
“What kind of role could it be?”
Even after reading up to Episode 4, he couldn’t find a role to replace Apprentice Priest.
“They’re all even smaller roles.”
If that was the case, they could have just asked if he could play one of those instead of Apprentice Priest; there was no need for a separate meeting.
“Both the writer and director are coming out to talk.”
It’s not like Taeha was a big-name actor they had to persuade.
“Thinking positively… Maybe there’s an important supporting role appearing later, after Episode 4.”
As he was thinking this, the office door opened and Director Lee Hae-ik and Kim Jeong-sik entered.
The two moved together as if they had been waiting outside.
Im Chan-hyung and Taeha quickly stood to greet them.
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
“Have a seat. Did you wait long?”
“No, we just arrived as well.”
In response to Kim Jeong-sik’s question, Taeha shook his head as he sat down.
Director Lee Hae-ik, who had a sharp eye for aesthetics, immediately commented on Taeha’s hairstyle.
“Your hair looks different today. Even more dashing.”
For the shoot and last time’s audition, Taeha had worn his bangs down for a more ordinary and calm vibe, fitting the role.
But today, Taeha had his bangs swept back.
“I noticed it looks better this way after washing up, so I tried it… seems it works.”
Taeha replied with a smile, thanking him for noticing.
Director Lee Hae-ik exchanged a glance with Kim Jeong-sik, as if signaling something, and Kim Jeong-sik nodded, understanding the meaning.
“Looks like the two of them had a private conversation before coming in.”
Before getting into the main topic, the four exchanged a few polite greetings.
Im Chan-hyung and Kim Jeong-sik, meeting for the first time, introduced themselves and shook hands.
Once the atmosphere had settled, Kim Jeong-sik asked Taeha,
“You’ve read the scripts for Episodes 3 and 4, right? What did you think?”
At that question, Taeha smiled softly.
Just as actors always want to hear they’re good-looking or acted well, writers are no different.
There was only one compliment every writer wanted to hear.
“It’s a great script.”
Even Baek Seung-chul, who had a string of hits, longed to hear those words above all.
“I really enjoyed it.”
Kim Jeong-sik’s expression softened, as if this was the praise he’d hoped for.
Of course, this was almost a reflexive response.
It would put him at ease and improve his mood, but for a writer, what really mattered came next.
Where did you find it interesting?
Was it the part he intended, or a vague sense of enjoyment?
Or perhaps the reader found it interesting in a completely unexpected way.
“In the first case, your sincerity is in doubt; in the latter, your insight is questionable.”
During the last audition, in discussing Episodes 1 and 2, Kim Jeong-sik had already confirmed both Taeha’s sincerity and remarkable insight.
But as the saying goes, you can never be too careful.
And, he was honestly curious.
How did someone with such a sharp eye see Episodes 3 and 4?
“What did you find interesting?”
As expected, Kim Jeong-sik asked, and Taeha answered honestly without hesitation.
Episodes 3 and 4 were just as excellent as 1 and 2, so there was no need for embellishment.
“The protagonist’s backstory was unique and well done. It felt raw. I found myself getting even more invested in the lead.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And it wasn’t just a simple flashback, but as the current events and supporting characters intertwined, the story kept expanding.”
“That’s right.”
“In Episodes 1 and 2, it felt like being swept up in exciting events, but in 3 and 4, I was pulled deeper inside. How did you manage to connect all the plotlines and characters so organically? I was truly impressed.”
“It was tough, honestly.”
Kim Jeong-sik smiled weakly, as if just thinking about it tired him out.
But he also looked at Taeha with surprise.
Taeha had pinpointed exactly the parts the writer cared about—so precisely that you could believe he was a writer himself, not just an actor.
He could feel that Taeha had really read, thought deeply about, and enjoyed his script.
It wasn’t just his acting; their meeting had left an even deeper impression on Kim Jeong-sik.
“You really understand the script. I’m the one who’s impressed.”
“Taeha read your script with real admiration, Writer. It’s so well-written and fun.”
At Kim Jeong-sik’s praise, Im Chan-hyung chimed in.
Director Lee Hae-ik, sensing Kim Jeong-sik’s satisfaction, spoke up as if he’d been waiting.
“Then, after reading up to Episode 4, was there any role you wanted to try other than the Apprentice Priest?”
At Director Lee Hae-ik’s probing question, Taeha hesitated for a moment.
“What role are they hinting at?”
The fact that they hadn’t told him directly and were circling around the topic made Taeha suspect it might be a bigger role than he’d expected.
There was nothing to do but answer honestly.
“Of course, Jinseong.”
At Taeha’s frank answer, the three others widened their eyes in surprise.
Jinseong was the name of the male lead in the drama.
“There’s no character in this project as charming as Jinseong.”
“That’s true.”
“You’re really ambitious, Kang Taeha.”
Kim Jeong-sik soon nodded in agreement, and Director Lee Hae-ik joked.
“But Jinseong is already taken. What role would you want next?”
“Hmm… Yoon-ha? If possible.”
When Taeha named the female lead, Kim Jeong-sik and Director Lee Hae-ik burst out laughing.
“Yoon-ha’s a great character, too.”
For Kim Jeong-sik, it was a string of pleasing comments.
In the intended and prepared order, Taeha was picking out the most desirable roles.
“What about Lee Jae-hyun?”
“I was about to mention that next.”
Taeha answered with a good-natured smile, and Director Lee Hae-ik smiled back.
Lee Jae-hyun was the most important role after the male and female leads, with a lot of screen time.
“That’s perfect.”
Kim Jeong-sik said quietly.
As Taeha and Im Chan-hyung looked at them questioningly, Director Lee Hae-ik continued.
“Lee Jae-hyun is the role we’ve been considering for you, Kang Taeha.”
As soon as he heard that, Taeha exclaimed in surprise,
“Are you serious?”
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